And blogs by former print journos who swear up and down their blog is NOT a doughnut blog but a website devoted to columns about doughnuts and who uses said website devoted to columns about doughnuts to excoriate new fangled doughnut recipes and to keep doughnuts that might have had sprinkles once out of the doughnut hall of fame.

Blogs: A dated description of what it’s like to eat a donut, with links to other blogs by people who like donuts, and excoriations of blogs by people who don’t like donuts.

You forgot: a variable number of comments underneath, mainly from people who think this particular donut eater can do no wrong, some from people who think donuts need leavening with another kind of food for a balanced diet, some from people who think THOSE people are the worst fucking scum of the earth and are LITERALLY flinging shit in their face for pointing out that some people don’t even like donuts, a few people who think just liking donuts is fine but you absolutely must also be obsessed with raisin danishes otherwise you’re the enemy and must be destroyed, and the occasional visitor who worries that even if they come across as pro-donut they might accidentally do something unforgiveable, like spelling it “doughnut” or something equally reactionary and oppressive, so they try to keep their comments as anodyne as possible, and really probably too many certifiable almond-jobs who threaten to kill/violate/immolate/whatever anyone who has the temerity to even talk about donuts. And one guy who persistently spells it “doneut” because he thinks it’s cute.

@18: Response tumblr: donuteatinghipsterassholes: Dude, get the powder off your women’s jeans, put your trucker hat back on, turn off the ironic country music on your iPhone, and try going out in the daytime sometime.

Last one I saw was the one that magically appeared near Opportunity. On Mars. They say it’s a jelly filled do/dough/D’oh nut. I think it’s a custard filled only because in a box full of jelly filled and custard filled I’d choose a custard filled and the devil take the jellymost.

And, what’s this? No mention of do/dough/D’oh nut holes? Why, when my grandmother used to make them she saved all the holes and plopped them into the seething grease just for me and my cousin, Woodrow. She knew how much we loved them.

Like little poppers, we were, popping them into our mouths and popping off about eating the whole holes, all of them. Then complaining we felt like we’d eaten nothing. She’d pop us on the head with a wooden spoon and chase us from the kitchen, hollering after us, “Donut pop off to me, rascals! I’ll knock you to Mars!”